


Reunions

by DreamingState



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Hawke Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Reunions, Some mentions of past abuse and rape (brief), post Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingState/pseuds/DreamingState
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke finds Fenris again in an old tavern. What happens next was a long time coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> Second fenhawke fanfiction. I'm in love with this pairing.   
> I haven't been able to play Inquisition, so it should be largely spoiler free and I'm kind of bullshitting it. But hey, you're here for fenhawke sex soooo

Years on the road, and Fenris still hadn’t learned to routinely care for what was his.

He couldn’t be blamed for it, he didn’t think. He’d gone without _anything_ of his own for much of his life, so when he had things that he owned he just… didn’t know what to do with it.

Of course, without Hawke here to remind him, things got worse so much more quickly.

It was Hawke he cursed as he struggled to get a rusted clump of dirt from the slats in his chestpiece- something shoved so far in there he would have never noticed if he hadn’t been boiling with pent up frustration and anxiety that his hands needed something to do.

Around him, at a safe distance, the other tavern patrons talked and laughed and carried on in a bubble of noise and energy of which he wasn’t a part. It took Fenris far too long to warm up to people for him to feel comfortable joining in, though when he saw a couple of old guards start a game of Wicked Grace, he was sorely tempted. He hadn’t seen Donnic and Aveline in many years.

Still.

Fenris suspected that if his aura could be seen, it would be a vicious and roiling red. He couldn’t help it; for the first time since he had killed his former master, he knew nothing but fear.

Hawke might be dead.

What else could sunder his love from him like this? Hawke hadn’t even given a proper goodbye, just said that there was work to be done that had to be done alone, and he’d find him as soon as it was over.

That was little more than a year ago, and Fenris had long stopped imagining his reunion with Hawke, and instead had taken to picturing all of the terrible awful ways in which Garret Hawke had most likely perished, alone, left in some mass grave or remains rotting scattered in a ditch somewhere. Maybe eaten by ogres. Taken by  slavers and tortured until he no longer remembered anything (of course this one was all too easy to picture, and the first time he’d had the thought, he’d bitten his lip so hard it had bled and scarred).

Maybe he’d been tricked into blood magic, and was now the host of a terrible demon, quite like that awful healer, Anders, for whom Hawke had been annoyingly fond.

The clump he had been digging at suddenly shattered, falling to the ground in a pattering like rain. Fenris sighed. Thinking like this never got anywhere, and if he continued down this path he’d likely ruin his chestplate and need to get a new one. Not that he didn’t have the gold, but finding something that fit him was more annoying than he’d like. If he could, he’d avoid it.

He picked up one of his more gentle cleaning tools, a brush, and began cleaning other areas of the armor that desperately needed it. After a while, he got lost in the rhythmic action, and the satisfaction of removing impurities from the metal and leaving it shining and clean.

So lost was he that he didn’t notice the body approaching until an arm was roughly slung across his shoulder, scratchy face buried in the crook of his neck, and a warm sigh ghosted across the exposed skin there. He shivered. His first response was to put a fist into the assailant’s face, but after a moment he recognized the individual.

Hawke.

“What- _Garrett!_ ”

The chestpiece in his hands clattered to the ground as he dropped it to turn and give Hawke a piece of his mind and…

He stopped when he looked upon Hawke’s face. His love looked _terrible._ Hawke had always had more of a robust figure, but his cheekbones now jutted out of his face, and the hollows under his eyes were deep and dark. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in far too long and the expression in his eyes…

Fenris frowned.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

Hawke just shook his head.

“Later,” he said, and rested his head back onto Fenris’ shoulder and pressed his lips against his neck. “Right now, I need you.”

All of a sudden, it became quite difficult to breathe. Fenris looked around- most of the patrons were pointedly pretending not to notice. For the hour, it was still far too busy here, so he put his hands on Hawke’s shoulders and gave him a gentle push.

“Not here, Hawke. My room is upstairs, can you walk?”

With a long sigh reminiscent of noble children being sent off to bed, Hawke leaned back and didn’t resist when Fenris pulled him to his feet. Fenris collected the bits of armor he had been cleaning, then thread his fingers through Hawke’s and pulled him gently to the stairs.

Hawke barely waited until the door was closed behind them before he fell upon Fenris as if tethered to his presence, and their lips met so cleanly, so naturally that they might as well have been magnetized. Everything Fenris was holding clattered to the ground as Hawke pushed close, and Fenris buried his hands in the front of Hawke’s coat and pulled him closer. Hawke’s lips tasted sweeter than cold wine after a hard day of work, and he felt as if he had been without food for days only to be given a loaf of fresh-baked bread. He was starving for Hawke’s presence, and was content not to question why (or how) he was here and what he had been doing. They’d been without one another for so long, they couldn’t do anything else but touch and kiss and remember what they’d lost.

Fenris’ shirt found the floor, and Hawke’s outer clothes joined them soon after. Hawke pressed him up against the door hard enough to make the wood creak, and his lips and tongue explored the exposed skin on his chest while Fenris’ breathing deepened against the familiar scent of his hair.

A light push was enough to send Hawke backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and tumbled backwards. Fenris used the motion to bend down and remove Hawke’s lower garments so that his prick was free to take into his mouth. Hawke gasped and arched his back as Fenris swirled his tongue around the head before taking him in deep, eager to devour him. He bobbed his head and Hawke made such a loud noise that Fenris released his prick and looked up in surprise.

“Love, we’ve barely begun,” he said, his voice barely a whisper in the dark room.

“Please, Fenris, don’t stop. It’s so… I need,” Hawke said, all but begging and Fenris could not resist the man when he begged.

He slid his hands under Hawke’s legs and hoisted them up over his shoulder so he could get at a better angle and suck his love’s swollen cock. He continued until Hawke dug a hand into Fenris’ silver hair and pushed him back.

“It’s too soon, Fenris. Come up,” Hawke said, and Fenris obeyed.

He untangled himself from Hawke’s legs so he could wrap his arms around Hawke’s shoulders and embrace him into the bed, smothering his face with kisses as his lover laughed.

“I missed you, you ridiculous bear of a man,” Fenris said as Hawke rolled them over and ravished his neck. “You’re not to leave again or I’ll kill you.”

Hawke groaned into the crook of his neck.

“Love you too much,” was all he said.

Hawke’s words and touches kindled a fire in the pit of his stomach, like a hook pitched into his insides and yanked, so he rolled them over until he could straddle Hawke’s hips and drag his leggings off so he was perched on top of his love just where he wanted.

“Hello,” he said with a bit of a smirk, and Hawke’s chest rumbled with chuckles.

“Hello,” Hawke repeated and then their lips crashed together.

As they kissed and touched, Fenris searched on the bedside table for a lotion he used when his hands and elbows got too dry and started to open it. Hawke caught his wrist, and Fenris raised his eyebrows at him.

“What?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.

“Are we going to… who is going to…” Hawke couldn’t find the words, but Fenris almost laughed. In respect for his love, he held it in.

“We can argue about what we are going to do later. But for now, I miss the feeling of you inside me,” Fenris said and pressed his lips to Hawke’s mouth until he pulled away.

“Are you sure that’s what you-”

“Hawke, I would not suggest it if it was not what I wanted.”

“Yes but-”

“Hush.”

Fenris smiled. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he appreciated how Hawke would make sure he was ready, and would always ask far more times than necessary for his consent. After a time, it could be a bit exhausting for him to repeat himself over and over, but all it took was for the memory of his slavery to return and he would be grateful all over again. Hawke, his love, loved him completely, appreciated him, and wanted him to feel safe. It was nearly more than he could bear.

He put his hands on Hawke’s shoulders and held him there.

“You, stay down. Just watch,” Fenris said, and released him to open the jar of lotion and coat his fingers liberally. Then he reached behind himself to press first one finger, then more inside himself and massage his hole.

Hawke’s eyes widened, pupils blown wide so he looked nearly possessed with his mouth open slightly. He looked at Fenris like he was a god, something beautiful and striking and deserving of worship. Hawke’s gaze made his face flush and his cock twitch: it was more of a turn on than the fingers inside him.

“You may touch,” Fenris said, raising an eyebrow. Hawke wasted no time, but instead of laying his hands on Fenris’ groin or hips like Fenris expected, he cupped his face in his hands and swiped a thumb across his lips.

“You are exquisite. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Hawke said, the look of awe still upon his face.

Fenris felt his breath hitch and decided that the preparation he’d done was enough. He removed his fingers, still slick from lotion, and wrapped them around Hawke’s cock instead. The man beneath him groaned and arched his hips, making Fenris chuckle.

“Are you ready, my love?” Fenris asked.

“You have no idea,” Hawke said, and leaned up to kiss him.

No matter how many times they kissed, it still felt like the inevitable pull of gravity, like he was falling towards the other half of himself. Every time, there was a warm sense of satisfaction in his chest, something that told him he could do this forever if he really wanted. Hawke was his, and Fenris was Hawke’s, and rather than being degrading and horrible, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But if he kept kissing Hawke, they’d never move on, and Fenris felt like he was aching for the feeling of Hawke inside him. So he pulled back, wiping away the trail of saliva that connected their mouths and grinned at Hawke. He reached back, grabbed the head of Hawke’s prick firmly and guided it to his entrance, and then slowly pressed it inside him.

Fenris was sure to take it slowly, inch by inch as he seated himself in Hawke’s lap.

It felt wonderful, of course. Hawke’s prick stretched and filled him far more completely than his fingers had been able to, and though there was some pain due to his eagerness, the fact that it was _Hawke_ he was straddling and _Hawke_ he was fucking made everything feel just that much better.

His back arched with pleasure and he threw his head back as he settled all the way down, taking a moment to appreciate the sensation. Hawke’s fingers left his jaw and slid down his neck to appreciate the marks there. The feeling of fingers on that sensitive skin made him shudder, and both of them groaned at the friction that caused.

For a moment, their eyes caught, and then for no reason at all, they started laughing. Perhaps it was just a release of the tension that had started between them since they met that evening, getting rid of anxious feelings and negative emotions from not having seen each other so long. In any case, they were giggling like silly farmgirls at a dance and couldn’t seem to stop, despite the fact that Hawke’s cock was buried deep inside Fenris.

Then, as quickly as the laughter started, it stopped as Hawke leaned forward to press his lips to Fenris’ neck again.

“Oh, I love you,” he said. “So, so much.”

“As I do you,” Fenris replied, and punctuated that with a slight thrust with his hips.

Hawke moaned his approval against Lyrium-infused skin, so Fenris did it again with more force. As such they continued for what could have been minutes, or even hours, Fenris wasn’t sure. He angled his hips to try to hit the spot within him that felt best, felt best when it was Hawke pressed up against it. Some had abused that pleasure, he remembered, which made him tense to remember it, but Hawke had never given him anything but pleasure. So when Fenris entwined himself with the human like this, he didn’t need to be afraid that it would be used as leverage against him, or that the tide would turn into something monstrous. Hawke just wanted him because he loved him and that was enough. And that alone would be enough to make Fenris love him in return, to say nothing of Hawke’s other traits.

Maker, this human made him _mad._

A noise of pleasure escaped his lips when he found the spot he’d been trying to reach, and apparently that sparked something within Hawke for he suddenly found himself spinning until his back hit the mattress and Hawke’s weight pinning him down.

“I’m sorry, that was sudden,” Hawke said. “I just… Is this okay?”

“Of course, you fool. But if you are going to put me in this position, you’d better do something about it.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows as it took an agonizing moment for Hawke to understand.

“Oh, right. I’ll get right on that.”

And Fenris was about to chuckle, but the powerful thrust Hawke made turned it into a loud moan. This was much better, for the position allowed Hawke to thrust into him much easily, and allow for more movement. Fenris locked his legs around his lover’s body, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and basically held on for the ride.

When Hawke’s passions were stirred, he fucked like a man possessed. It was almost as if he was built for this, with all of his muscles and breath focused on this single goal, which was pleasure. But Hawke never forgot about his lover’s pleasure as well, and Fenris nearly lost it when Hawke wrapped a large hand over the elf’s prick and started pumping.

“Ahh, Hawke. This is…”

“Too much?” Hawke’s eyes widened as he slowed his motions.

“No, you fool. I’m close. Don’t stop _now!_ ”

A wry smile crossed Hawke’s lips as he began to move his hips again in earnest. It only took a few more thrusts to push Fenris over the edge with a loud cry, and the sight of him undone by his lover’s passion was enough to send Hawke tumbling after.

“Fuck,” was all Hawke was able to say, as he rolled off of Fenris.

His chest was heaving and covered with sweat, and Fenris couldn’t resist the urge to reach a hand out and run his fingers through the thick hair that grew there. Hawke looked over to him and smiled, and Fenris swore he saw months of tiredness and stress melt from his face. Hawke stretched out an arm in invitation, and Fenris snuggled right up next to that big strong chest, letting out a breath of relief.

“Now, you bear, you stay right here,” Fenris said, and Hawke’s laugh rumbled through him like thunder.

“Of course, my love.”

The sound of Hawke’s heartbeat accompanied him into sleep.

 

 

Nightmares found him in the fade, as they often did. He woke with a start, gasping for air and tensed for a fight, but strong arms held him in place. For a moment, he thought that it was part of the dream (demons come to drag him away to a mage’s work table), but then the familiar smell of his love reached his senses, as well as the kisses being laid across his forehead.

Hawke.

Fenris relaxed instantly, falling back onto Hawke’s chest, and breathing in deep the scent clinging to his black hair.

Hawke didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush him, but he carded his fingers through Fenris’ hair and kissed the top of his head, and Fenris had never felt so safe.

Long moments passed, and when Fenris felt that he had regained his composure, he leaned up on his arms to press his lips against Hawke’s.

“You trimmed your beard,” he said, tracing the edge with a finger.

“Yeah,” Hawke said. “Before you woke up I figured why not. Got back in bed before you started having your nightmare though.”

Hawke paused, watching Fenris’ eyes intently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Fenris replied, and Hawke accepted it.

Fenris leaned in and nuzzled the line of Hawke’s beard with his nose, making the human laugh as it tickled.

“Stop that!” Hawke protested, but Fenris refused.

“I like your hair,” Fenris said, as he kissed the underside of Hawke’s jaw. “Or fur rather, as it were.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Hawke said. “Most of the time, I get people telling me I should shave it off.”

“Don’t listen to them. They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“Clearly.”

Garrett chuckled as he carded his fingers through Fenris’ silver hair- a motion that couldn’t have been more soothing if Fenris were a Mabari.

“Your hair is getting long,” Hawke mused after a moment, scratching it with his fingers. “How can you fight with it like this?”

“I pull it back,” Fenris said, and looked up at Hawke’s face. “It’s not too much of a trouble.”

“I could trim it for you if you wanted. What do you say?”

Because Fenris really did need it trimmed, and his own efforts were haphazard at best, he allowed it.

He’d discovered not long into their friendship that Hawke was particularly skilled at cutting and trimming hair. When asked about it, he’d laugh and say that’s what came when you were a big brother to a young Bethany, and then a shadow of sadness would cross his eyes. Fenris had stopped asking about her, though she was curious about this mage sibling of Hawke’s. Hawke was a mage, and still tolerable, so he thought he would have rather liked Bethany if he’d had the chance.

Hawke sat him down in the chair next to the desk the inn provided, close to the basin for water. The Champion always carried a razor sharp knife and other items used for trimming hair on him at all times. Fenris never really paid attention to what all Hawke carried around with him, but he trusted his lover so he allowed Hawke to walk behind him with a razor, and trim his hair quite close to his neck.

The touch of Hawke’s fingers so close to his skin, but not touching it nearly sent shivers down his spine, but the moment he remembered the razor, he stifled the urge. Then, the first lock of silver hair tumbled to the ground, and it was too late to back out if he’d wanted to.

Surprisingly, this act of allowing Hawke to trim his hair was rather a calming one. He sat back and did his best to relax while Hawke did what he would do, humming to himself a little bit as he went.

“Ah!” Hawke said about halfway through his trimming, startling Fenris, but luckily the knife had been taken away and was set safely on the table instead. “There they were. I was starting to think they’d gotten lost!”

Then Fenris couldn’t help but shudder as Hawke’s lips came in contact with the shell of his ear, the man’s tongue slipping out from between to lick the pointed tip.

“C-careful Hawke! Keep up like that and people will be convinced you have an elf fetish if they already aren’t.”

“I don’t have an elf fetish.” Fenris could feel Hawke’s frown against his skin. “I just love every bit of you. From your head to your toes, I adore you, and could love you no less if you were a… a….”

Silence filled the room as Hawke fought for the proper term. Fenris would have suggested a Qunari since it was the furthest thing he could think of from himself, but then Hawke spoke.

“A darkspawn.”

“A darkspawn? Really?” Fenris couldn’t help but laugh. “You really are a fool aren’t you?”

“Yes but I’m _your_ fool!” Hawke said, wrapping his arms around Fenris awkwardly from behind.

“A sappy fool.

“ _Your_ sappy fool!”

“Yes,” Fenris had to allow that, and he turned his head to kiss Hawke’s cheek. “But don’t you have a task to complete?”

“Oh, right, I’ll get on that!” Hawke said, jumping up and reaching for the knife once more.

They lapsed into comfortable silence while Hawke finished his task, but once he was done, Fenris found that his throat was tight. When Hawke set the knife down on the table again, Fenris shot out a hand and snatched his wrist, harder than probably necessary, but he couldn’t make his fingers relax.

“You’re not leaving again are you?”

Hawke, for his part, didn’t pull away or brush him off, but instead froze for a long moment. When he was done thinking, or whatever else was running through his mind at the time, he carefully knelt down in front of Fenris and placed one big hand on either side of the elf’s face.

“Maker help me, nothing could keep me away from you.”

“Then why did you leave?” Fenris was not about to be swayed with romantic phrases (though he was touched that Hawke remembered his own declaration of love); he demanded answers and totalities. Concrete terms would be the only ones he would accept.

Hawke sighed.

“It wasn’t because I wanted to _leave_ you. I just couldn’t stand to _lose_ you.”

“So you left me alone before I would leave?”

“ _NO!_ Absolutely not, that’s not what I’m saying!” Hawke bit his lip. The Champion had no idea how endearing he was when he did that. “It’s just. I love you. So much. I love you more than my whole being. More than my life. I can call your face to mind as easily as breathing. And I know you love me too… to the point where if I was in danger, you would die for me.”

“Of course,” Fenris said, but his throat felt tight.

“Yeah. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But I’m not some fragile prin-” Hawke shushed him with a finger to his lips.

“Part of the mission I was on… it had to do with corrupted lyrium.”

At this, Fenris froze. The connection was obvious, and Fenris found himself understanding entirely.

“Oh.”

Hawke gathered Fenris’ hands in his, and pressed them to his forehead.

“I don’t know what I would have done if it had… if you had… ”

Hawke broke off and Fenris couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss the top of his head (somewhat awkwardly, but lips made contact with hair, and that’s what mattered).

“I understand, Hawke. At least, that part I do. But you have to promise that no matter what, you won’t do that again.”

“Never. I could never stand to be parted from you again.”

“Good.”

And Fenris stood, pulling Hawke up with him so that he could kiss his face and start to push him back towards the bed.

They wouldn’t leave it for quite a while.


End file.
